


Accidentally

by wrongstation



Category: O-Town
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongstation/pseuds/wrongstation
Summary: She was Janie and he was Jacob. It was always supposed to be Jacob and Janie, forever. Always. He had a lot of things to think about, and as he did 90 down an empty road, all he could think about was the fact that she thought he wanted Ashley.





	Accidentally

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Ashley Angel's song "Crazy/Beautiful" and tell me he didn't write it about Jacob. Go on.

His back was killing him again. It was four in the morning, and his brain wouldn't shut off and his muscles wouldn't stop going into spasms. Maybe if it had just been the spasms he could have toughed it out. What was a little physical discomfort? But it was more than that, and he found himself in the bathroom with the medicine cabinet open. He was staring at the bottle like it was a dirty little secret, and he quickly popped two of the tablets before he could talk himself out of it, washing them down with a handful of water from the tap. His expression greeted him when he closed the cabinet door, and he stared at his reflection for a second. He knew those eyes. He knew his nose and his mouth, and even when his hair was a god awful mess, he still knew that too. Jacob wasn't a stranger to himself on the outside, but it was feeling more and more like he didn't know the person on the inside. 

It wasn't that he was addicted to the pills. It was impossible to be addicted to something that you'd never taken. The bottle was a symbol. It was strength of will, and he'd failed the test by putting two of them in his mouth and swallowing. The pills had been sitting up there for a month, a prescription filled but never touched, because that was weak. He hated being weak. 

The pain had started when he'd been on the phone with Ashley. His best friend. His best friend who had a pretty shitty home life that he liked to complain about a lot. Jacob didn't mind hearing about it, but it sometimes bugged him that Ashley let himself get into the situations to begin with. He'd been in the middle of hearing about how Tiffany didn't think he was being a good dad for the nine millionth time when pain shot down his back and he'd gasped, making Ashley shut up immediately. Jacob had hurt his back before, back when they were in O-Town, before he'd re-injured it working construction. Ashley knew his pain sounds. 

Ashley was overloading his brain. He didn't mind hearing about Ashley's problems. He didn't mind hearing about Lyric. He didn't mind hearing about the solo project and the dates he had coming up. What he minded was that he couldn't stop thinking about the conversations after they hung up. Ashley liked to complain, but he always glossed everything over with 'it'll be okay'. 'Tiffany yelled at me, but I know I was being a bonehead'. 'Tiff and I are having a fight, but it'll be alright in the morning'. It drove him crazy, because no matter how many times he tried to tell Ashley to stand up to her, he never heard it. It went in one ear and out the other, because Ashley always refused to admit that there was a real problem. 

So what? Why couldn't he let it go? It was driving him crazy and he couldn't concentrate. 

Janie was in bed. She was sleeping and had to be up for work in the morning, teaching girls to dance and to be glamorous. It was amusing, because Janie was less than glamorous. She was real, she was beautiful, she wasn't fake in any sense of the word. But she definitely wasn't glamorous. Especially not then with her blue jelly mask over her eyes and her mouth hanging open. 

His head was starting to spin from the medicine and so he went downstairs, laying down on the couch. If he had to hurl, he didn't want to do it where he'd disturb Janie. 

Fucking pills. Fucking vicodin that tasted like chalk burning down his throat. It tasted like temptation. 

\- - - 

It wasn't his fault that he and Ashley were spending a lot more time together. He knew it bugged Janie, but he didn't know why. She knew Ashley, she knew that when he had a little success, he needed to be watched. He needed someone around to ground him and remind him that just because an album is out doesn't mean it's going to be the answer to all your prayers. He never told Ashley anything hurtful and he never would, but he did make sure to steer clear of all topics entertainment and business, finding ways to distract Ashley in the times when he knew his celebratory spending was at its most dangerous. 

And sometimes he kept him from walking into walls. 

Ashley had always needed a little extra help with the basics of life. He burned his tongue on hot food because it never occurred to him to blow on it first. He stubbed his toe because he didn't think to put on the shoes by his bed before he got up and wandered in the dark. He forgot to put toilet paper in the bathroom and trash bags in the kitchen and gas in the car, but that's why he had people like Trevor and Jacob. 

Tiffany only halfway got Ashley. She got that he was kind of slow with common sense and lazy with housework. But what she didn't get was that it wasn't because he was lazy or stupid. She didn't get that it was just Ashley, it was just the way he operated. She didn't get that sometimes he needed to be shown how to do something instead of told. She didn't get that the quickest way to get results wasn't to yell at him because that wasn't going to make anything sink in. She didn't know that telling him he was stupid, even in the heat of the moment, was the quickest way to kick him where it hurt. 

She didn't know that pressing a hand to the small of his back would prompt movement more than a swat to the shoulder. And he was willing to bet that she didn't know that just smiling and nodding wasn't the encouragement he needed when working on music. 

He had a life of his own. He had a job that paid a lot more than it seemed like it should, and he had music on the side. He had a wife and a monkey. He didn't need to take off every five seconds and hang out with Ashley because there was nothing else in his life. He did it because he wanted to, and because sometimes he was afraid no one else would be there for Ashley the way Ashley needed someone to be there. 

He didn't know why it bothered Janie. Nothing was changing. He went to work, he spent time with her. They made love just as frequently as ever. So what if he took an extra four hours of his day to commute back and forth to Ashley when they both had some time to kill? It wasn't hurting anyone. 

\- - - 

It was a familiar scenario. Janie was on her back, her shirt pushed up, her bra pulled down. She was giggling at the brush of his whiskers, and he was holding her hips to keep them still. Her stomach was his canvas and he was busy painting lazy strokes across it with his tongue, rubbing his facial hair over her sides from time to time, just to make her laugh. 

It was a familiar scenario. Her legs were coming up and his body was going down, and there was no more giggling. She was moaning and crushing his head with her thighs, and after orgasm number two, he came up for air. 

It was a familiar scenario when she kissed him despite where his mouth had been. And when she whimpered for him to fuck her. He hesitated, and it wasn't meant as a slight. It wasn't meant as the end of the fucking world, but suddenly she was angry. Her legs were down, she was pushing him away and sitting up, and suddenly there was absolutely nothing familiar going on here. 

"What's wrong with you?" 

He felt like he should have been the one asking that question, and all he could do was gawk at her. "What do you mean me?" he asked, incredulous. Annoyed. Maybe even a little scared, because Janie never got mad. 

"You were somewhere else just then." Maybe mad was the wrong word. She looked annoyed, yes. But there was something underlying in her expression. She was worried. 

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was right here, with you, and you freaked out on me." 

"I freaked out because you disappeared. In your eyes. You were just gone, Jacob." A pout, but not the sexy kind that drove him crazy. The irritating kind that drove him the other kind of crazy. 

He wasn't Ashley. He could stand up to his women. "Janie, what the fuck. Seriously." Maybe it wasn't standing up, but it wasn't backing down either. 

She didn't say anything. Her shirt was still pushed up above her breasts and she tugged it down, crossing her arms self-consciously. "Who were you thinking about?" her voice was quiet, small. Scared. 

He saw red. He saw shades of red he didn't even know existed, and she didn't need to push him away for him to fly across the room. "What?!" He'd been completely and utterly blindsided, and she was last person he expected this kind of shit from. "I wasn't thinking about anyone! I was thinking about you!" 

"So, does that make me no one?" There was no accusation in her words, no ploy for sympathy, which confused him even more. Why was she trying to pick a fight, and why was she doing such a piss poor job? 

"Janie. I can't.. I can't fucking talk to you right now. Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" His pants were on the floor by the bed and he threw them on without bothering to look for his boxers. He needed to go downstairs and get something to drink. He needed alcohol. He needed… he needed a good sledgehammer to the head. Or maybe her head. 

She was still curled up on the bed. It was frustrating to see her so small, trying to make herself smaller, trying to shrink away. He had no idea what he'd done wrong but she was looking like a violated rape victim, and as mad at her as he was for flipping out, he was just as mad at himself for giving her a reason to look that way, even if it had been inadvertent. "Jake…" she started, biting her lip and slowly uncurling. "Come back to bed. I'm sorry." 

"It's not that easy, Janie. You can't start shit like that for no reason and then expect everything to be okay." 

"I just thought…" 

"Thought what?" he snapped before she had a chance to finish the thought. "Say it, Janie. Whatever it is, just fucking spit it out since it's obviously on your mind." 

She knew his temper. She knew his temper and his mood swings and his insecurities and every damn thing about him, and she knew that withholding something like that was a good way to piss him off. Finally, she spoke. "I thought that maybe you were thinking about Ashley." 

\- - - 

It looked like a crime scene in there. 

She followed him down the stairs, calling his name over and over, asking where he was going. "Jacob. Jacob, come back. Jake. Where are you going? Please talk to me, I'm sorry! I didn't… Jacob!" 

He didn't listen. Didn't pay attention. Couldn't even remotely begin to care about anything she had to say. Not after that. Not after her accusing him of… what had she even accused him of? Thinking about his best friend while they were fooling around? 

"Jacob, please. You've just been spending so much time with him that I thought--" 

"He's my best friend, Janie." He spun on his heels, coming to a stop in the middle of the kitchen. His hands were clenching and unclenching into fists, and he could feel the familiar flush of anger. He was going to lose his temper, and she really didn't want him to do that. "Are you telling me that I can't spend time with friends without you thinking that I'm sleeping with them?" 

Broken glass on the floor. A chair knocked over, the wood splintered. A hole in the wall. He'd built that wall, he had the right to punch it in if he wanted to. 

"I'm just scared, Jake. I was thinking about you and him the other day as a joke and then it started to make sense… Tiffany feels the same way, Jake… please, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"You've been talking to her about me? Jesus Christ, Janie. I can't fucking listen to this right now. Go have your sick fantasies but keep me out of them." 

He was just trying to leave. He just wanted to go, but she wouldn't stop grabbing his arm. She wouldn't stop pleading with him, so he picked up a glass from the counter. Picked it up and threw. Hard. 

She went still. Her hand didn't let go of his arm, but she did stop tugging. In fact, she stopped breathing. She'd done it. She knew she'd done it. She'd triggered that part of him that was so violent and scary that she barely knew him anymore. She didn't know him when he was like that, but it had almost never been directed at her before. 

"Let. Go. Of. Me." 

Her hand dropped as if his arm had just heated up, and she took a slow step back. She wasn't afraid of him hurting her. She was more afraid of him hurting himself. "Jacob..." 

"Don't talk to me!" A chair on the ground, knocked out of his way so he could continue to the door. 

"When will you be back? Jacob, please. Where are you going?" 

The rage had seemed to subside and now he was chuckling. Laughing at the irony of the words that were about to come out of his mouth. "I'm going to Ashley's." 

"You - you shouldn't drive when you're this upset. I'll go. I'll go stay with mom, or… Brian. Or, you know, it doesn't matter. I'll just go. I'm sorry. This is all my fault." 

He wasn't sure when the fist hit the wall. He kept asking her to be quiet, to just let him go and not fight with him. He was calming down, he just needed air, and a two hour drive seemed the perfect way to get it. And then she mentioned Tiffany, and his fist sailed. He'd hurt his knuckle but he didn't care. The chair that he'd knocked over was now in his way and he picked it up, catching his finger on a piece of broken glass. 

The kitchen looked like a crime scene. 

He was in the car, going, going. Hand wrapped in a towel that was white sometime before the incident that night but was now white and red. Janie was probably cleaning the kitchen. Probably crying as she swept up glass. 

He should turn around. He knew that they'd both over-reacted, but it was too late to go back just then. He needed to clear his head before he did something stupid, like tell her he was leaving her. 

She was Janie and he was Jacob. It was always supposed to be Jacob and Janie, forever. Always. He had a lot of things to think about, and as he did 90 down an empty road, all he could think about was the fact that she thought he wanted Ashley. 

\- - - 

The thing about it all was that he did want Ashley. Usually only when they were together, when they were laying around on a couch, starting up at the ceiling and wondering how life had gone from el casa de Pearlman to what it was now. They theorized about the true meaning behind their short-lived career, and they dreamed about what it would have been like if they'd hung on just a little while longer. Ashley didn't scold him when he wanted a cigarette, and he let him wash it down with a shot of whiskey and didn't comment that he was drinking a lot more than he used to. Ashley just let him be himself, and it seemed like a fair trade since that's all Ashley ever was around Jacob too. 

Ashley didn't ask him why it was the middle of the night and Jacob wasn't at home in bed with his wife. He didn't ask him if he wanted to talk as he opened the front door and led him to the couch. He brought a fresh blanket, an extra pillow and a cup of tea, because he knew that Jacob secretly loved it before bed. 

Ashley knew all of Jacob's secrets. All except one. 

Tiffany was asleep upstairs. Ashley whispered to him quietly about something cute Lyric had done, and then he patted his friend's leg affectionately and shot him a long look as he went back up the stairs. It was too quiet down there and he couldn't stop picturing what was going on up there, up the stairs where Ashley had disappeared to. Back upstairs to Tiffany. 

He really wished he had those pills. 

\- - - 

He didn't see Ashley again for three weeks. He went home to Janie the morning after the explosion and smoothed everything over with an apology that felt awkward and detached, but she didn't seem to mind. They went about their lives as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't lost his temper and she hadn't lost her mind. 

He repaired the hole in the wall and covered it with a fresh coat of paint. It was eerie how much their marriage suddenly felt like that patched up hole. 

He talked to Ashley every once in a while on the phone, but mostly only when Jacob was the one to call. Ashley had never been good at remembering the people he left behind when he was out on his own. It was another quirk that not many people understood, but Jacob did. He adjusted the time of his call to the time of whatever city Ashley was in at the moment, calling after the show and asking how everything went, which meant they spent the whole conversation talking about the performance. It was a nice, safe distance for Jacob to keep. He just needed some time to let things blow over. Let Janie see that he wasn't running off to Ashley. Time to stop wanting to run off to Ashley. 

Tiffany still called Janie a lot. And suddenly he wasn't the one taking off for middle of the day trips. The world was tipping over and he didn't know how to make it right again. 

\- - - 

Ashley's not-quite-a-tour tour brought him close enough to Jacob's house that he insisted Ashley stay with him. Get off the bus and have a real meal, since Lord only knew what Ashley had been surviving on. He was pretty good in the kitchen and had even turned into a semi-decent housekeeper, and he found himself in the kitchen hours before Ashley was scheduled to arrive, a roast in the oven and a mop in his hand. Janie was at work for the day and had made plans to go to her sister's for the night for a girl's night out slumber party. Or something along those lines anyway -- he'd kind of tuned her out at the first mention of facials. 

They'd have the house to themselves, and he was trying not to read too deeply into that. They hadn't been alone together in a long time. Not alone in a house. There was always a wife or a baby or a bar full of people around them, but not this time. This time it was just them, the roast, and the cabinet full of alcohol that he was already planning to set up on the bar. Oh, and there was Abby. But she'd taken off with an O-Town bobblehead that she'd found somewhere in his storage trunk of shame, and he hadn't seen her since. 

A search of the trunk told him she'd taken off with the Ashley doll. Smart little fucker. 

\- - - 

He wasn't drunk yet, but he was getting there. Ashley was already there. He was in full babble mode, talking about how intense it was out on the road with no one to talk to and how much he missed home until he was actually at home. 

Yeah, Ashley was definitely already drunk. 

Jacob could hold his liquor. He could drink anyone and everyone under the table, but he knew it was dangerous territory once he was actually drunk. He wasn't a cuddly, babbly drunk like Ashley. He was mean and blunt, even more so than when he was sober. He was also incredibly horny, which meant that he got angry if he didn't get laid when he was wasted. He really didn't want to go there. 

The conversation had turned to Lou Pearlman somehow, and Jacob laughed because how random was that? His nose wrinkled as Ashley described what it must have been like to have sex with Lou, and Jacob joked that they should ask Lance Bass, or maybe even Timberlake. 

"If Lou said the only way for you to be in the band would have been to blow him, would you?" 

They'd abandoned the couch hours ago since it wasn't big enough for them both to lay on, and taken up residence on the floor instead. A bottle of Jack had come down with them, and they were passing it back and forth, gurgling on the liquid since they didn't bother to sit up before putting it to their lips. "That's disgusting. I wouldn’t let his dick anywhere near me. I wouldn't have been able to find it," he scoffed, grabbing the bottle back from Ashley and taking a long, burning drink. 

"Oh man, that's so nasty," Ashley laughed, grossed out as though he hadn't been the one to ask the question in the first place. 

His hand was warm as he grabbed Jacob's hand, and after a heartstopping second, he realized that Ashley was just trying to get the bottle back. 

"If you had to, would you have fucked Lou or Clive? If you had to. Like, you'd die if you didn't pick one and do the deed," he giggled, swishing the liquid around to see how much was left in the bottle. 

Jacob snorted. "Why are you so interested in the idea of me fucking guys? Especially fat, old, nasty guys. I'd have way better taste than that." 

Ashley shifted onto his side without warning, and the bottle he set down between them was the only thing keeping them from touching. "Like who, Ikaika? Don't lie, man, I can see it in your eyes. You want your sweet Hawaiian pineapple to make mad, passionate love to you." Ashley's giggle was high-pitched and a little annoying, but his eyes were squinting as he laughed and there was a faint trace of a dimple he wasn't sure if he'd ever noticed before, and he couldn't quite bring himself to care about the noise. 

"Fuck you!" he laughed, covering his face with his hands, not sure if he was more amused or disturbed by the idea of romancing Ikaika. 

"Fuck me, huh?" Ashley repeated with a smirk. "Do you wanna fuck me, Jake?" 

Time stopped, but it kept right on ticking. He stopped breathing, but air continued to fill his lungs. His heart skipped a beat but kept right on going. He felt himself screaming on the inside, but on the outside he simply rolled his eyes. "Dude, shut up," he said, shoving Ashley's shoulder to push him away, onto his back again, away so that Jacob couldn't feel his breath on the side of his neck anymore. 

"How's your hand?" Ashley asked, seemingly having let go of their previous conversation. 

He'd almost forgotten about his hand, but he lifted it and looked at the barely visible mark with a shrug. "It's fine. Healed up okay. It wasn't that deep." 

"Is everything okay with Janie?" He was doing that thing with his eyes, where they got huge and deep and full of concern. Jacob hated that look. 

"Sure. Yeah, of course. You know us, we're explosive elements sometimes." 

"Yeah. Sure, man. I know." 

He'd never asked about the specifics, and Jacob wondered why he never would. 

\- - - 

He didn't know whose idea it had been to put on their albums and try to remember choreography, but there they were. Dancing to Liquid Dreams in his living room. They were rusty and could barely remember their rights from their lefts, and a crossed leg in the wrong direction tripped them both up and sent them to the floor in a laughing heap. 

Ashley's thigh was draped over his leg, but he just kept laughing. 

\- - - 

"Honesty bites the dust, every time I hear you saying that love is never lust." 

He kept on playing air guitar, even as he flinched at the words. 

\- - - 

"Don't make me promises, baby you never did know how to keep them well. I've had the rest of you, now I want the best of you. It's time for show and tell." 

He was really starting to hate the sound of his own voice. 

They just kept swaying, Jacob's lighter in the air. 

\- - - 

"I came to you with a broken view of what my life should be. You carried me subconsciously. I set my mind through your eyes, my thoughts are caught up in you." 

To add insult to injury, he'd written those fucking lines. 

\- - - 

He stopped Ashley before he had a chance to put on 02. If their self-titled pile of garbage had been a fist to the gut, the emotionally charged songs like From the Damage and Craving would have been a knife. Instead, he put on some Michael Jackson and moonwalked a little, just to prove to himself (and Ashley) that he still could. 

\- - - 

"Dude, I cannot believe we just ate all that." 

Ashley's voice was as wide as his eyes as he surveyed the damage they'd done to the fridge. "You ate most of it," Jacob retorted, licking some random hot fudge from his finger. At least, it looked like hot fudge. He figured it really could have been anything. 

"Whatever, you're the one who inhaled the pot roast. Which was really good by the way." 

There was an empty carton of ice cream in the sink, an empty potato chip bag on the floor next to an almost empty jar of ranch dip, and more beer cans than he could count. They'd eaten the roast right out of the pan with forks and knives, which were heaped in the pan on the floor between them. It looked like they'd fed an army of hungry orphans, and he knew he'd be feeling the over-indulgence in the morning, right along with the nausea and hangover headache. 

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Jacob asked, not really waiting for an answer since he knew what it would be. Ashley would never tell him no. He wasn't even sure Ashley could say no. 

"'Course not," Ashley said, his back reclined against the cabinet in a way that couldn't be all that comfortable. His feet were crossed at the ankle and he had crumbs on the front of his t-shirt. Typical Ashley. "Can I have one?" 

Jacob had been inhaling his first drag of the cigarette when Ashley asked, and he sucked smoke down the wrong pipe, coughing and sputtering through his laughter. "You want a cigarette?" He paused. Shrugged. "Alright." 

In the middle of extracting one from the pack, Ashley's hand caught his wrist. "Wait. Maybe I'll just try some of yours first." 

Ashley was so white bread all-American purity that it made him laugh. He'd probably never even tried a cigarette before then, and it was oddly flattering in a way that made absolutely no sense. "Sure," he said, passing it over to Ashley and sitting back to watch. 

He took a tiny little puff and instantly made a face, spitting the smoke out before taking a deep breath and trying again. The second drag was slightly more successful, and Jacob was a little impressed that he didn't choke as he inhaled the smoke. He held it for a second and then exhaled, making the same face of displeasure before handing it back to Jacob. "Dude. I hate to tell you, but those things taste like shit." 

"I know." 

"Then why do you smoke them?" 

"Because I have an oral fixation," he deadpanned with a roll of his eyes, leaning back against the cabinets and letting his head thud back against them too. He blew smoke directly up into the air, thinking about how much Janie would kill him for lighting up inside. "Because it's just a habit that I picked up, and it calms my nerves," he said after a few beats, holding the cigarette like a joint and sucking on the end. 

Ashley seemed to mull that over, and then he was picking up the roasting pan and moving it to his other side so that he could stretch out next to Jacob, leaning against his side. "Why do your nerves need to be calmed now?" he asked, resting his forehead against Jacob's temple, asking the words softly into his ear. 

Was Ashley really that naïve? Was he playing with Jacob? Was he serious? Could he really not realize that Jacob had gone and developed a stupid fucking childish crush? He raised the cigarette to take another hit, but lowered it before it reached his lips. 

He looked at Ashley. Really looked at him, into his eyes, into his expression. He wanted to know what he was seeing before he said anything. He saw… 

He saw innocence. 

"Fuck," he whispered, turning his head away to face forward again, closing his eyes. It was all so damn funny. Ashley should have been the one with the dorky crush, because that's what Ashley did. Jacob didn't do shit like that. It just wasn't him. It was such a role reversal that he couldn't stop chuckling under his breath, and he could see how confused Ashley was from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't help it. "You know. I have never once thought you were stupid, but sometimes I really wish you could pick up a few things like common sense and deduction skills," he said, suddenly a little annoyed. "It would make life a lot easier." 

"Did I do something wrong?" Ashley asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned back and away from Jacob. 

"You just don't fucking get it. You don't get anything," Jacob muttered. He stood up a little too quickly, his head spinning, his stomach churning. "I'm going to bed," he muttered, stubbing out the cigarette in the sink and leaving the butt there. 

\- - - 

He hadn't been asleep long, if at all. The covers were moving, and he kicked at whatever it was that was trying to take them away. 

"Ow. Jake, stop kicking me!" 

Ashley. Right, of course, it would be Ashley. He'd left him alone in the kitchen and stormed upstairs to bed, never telling Ashley were the spare blankets were so he could sleep on the couch. Wait, this wasn't Ashley's place -- he had a guest room. Why wasn't Ashley there instead of here, stealing his covers? Regardless, his foot stopped moving. 

The bed dipped and Ashley joined him, stinking of booze and Jacob's cigarette smoke. And pot roast. 

"I'm sorry if I made you mad," he whispered against Jacob's hair. "Are you awake?" 

He was awake but he didn't say anything. Instead, he rolled over a little bit and turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Ashley in response. 

"Okay, good, you're awake. I figured you were if you were kicking me." He tried to laugh, but it obviously didn't work. "Even if you're mad, can I just talk to you for a second? 'Cause even if you're mad and I'm stupid, you're still my best friend and you should always talk to your best friend about stuff, right?" 

Jacob didn't say anything. Nothing he could have said would've registered just then, anyway. Ashley was in babble mode. 

"I'm a little drunk and I might not be saying this sober, but maybe it's a good thing that I just get it out, you know? I love Tiffany. We're engaged. I don't know if we'll ever get married, but we promised to try and I really love her a lot, and she gave me Lyric, you know? But I… I don't talk to Tiffany. Ever. I tell her things, but I don't talk. Not like I do with you, and she just makes me feel so bad sometimes. She makes me feel like shit for not being better at the things she wants from a husband. She wants responsibility, she wants me to be the best dad in the world overnight, she wants me to know how to do everything without ever learning to actually do it. She's not.. she's not good with me. She's not you, Jake." 

He'd heard all the anti-Tiffany arguments before, but this time they weren't as sugar-coated as they usually were. He blamed the booze. 

"Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if she didn't get pregnant. I mean, not that I'd want that because I love my son, but would we even be together without him? I love her so much but I love her because I see her in him. I love her because I got her pregnant and she let me be in his life. I don't love her for who she is, and I'm a horrible person for that." 

His voice was breaking, and Jacob rolled over completely, opening his arms and letting Ashley wiggle into them. It was pure reflex, but it was the only thing he could think to do. He didn't want Ashley to cry. "You're not a horrible person," he said quietly, speaking into too-long hair that made it so that he didn't know which part of Ashley's head his lips were against. "You're loyal. She gave you Lyric and it's hard for you to think about not being with the mother of your child, especially with being from a broken home yourself. You don't want to become your biological dad who never sees his son. You don't want a man that Tiffany loves after you to become the unsupportive asshole step-father you grew up with." 

It took a few moments, but he felt Ashley's shoulders shake underneath his hands, and he tried not to let his discomfort show. He didn't know how to handle tears. Uncertainly, he flattened his hand between Ashley's shoulderblades and rubbed, and Ashley looked up at him after a few quiet moments of rubbing. 

"You know me better than I do," he whispered. "And I'm sorry that I ever made you think that I didn't know you just as well." 

Soft, pink lips were on his, and this was not a friendly kiss. This was a 'I've been wanting to do this for far too long' kiss, and he was so dizzy that he had no idea where or who he was. Ashley had a quick tongue and cold hands that came up to cup the side of his face, and when Jacob sucked on his tongue he could literally feel the exchange of air from Ashley's mouth into his own. 

They were kissing. They were kissing in his bed. In his bed that he shared with Janie, and oh my god he couldn't do this. He couldn't let this go any farther. The ring on his finger was weighing a ton and his chest was caving in, but he pulled back from the insistence of Ashley's tongue, drawing a whimper from him. "Ash… Ash, man we can't do… we can't. Janie… I'm sorry. I can't do this to her." 

"I know," Ashley whispered, pressing two fingers against Jacob's mouth before replacing them with his own lips. It was a slow, lingering kiss that didn't taste like anything but goodbye. "If she ever breaks your heart, I'm good with superglue. Only not the real kind because I glued my fingers together once." 

It made him laugh despite the lump in his throat, and he murmured Ashley's name before pulling him closer and willing his eyes to close. He highly doubted he was going to get any sleep, but it was currently the best defense mechanism he could think of. 

In the morning he'd find a way to clean up the kitchen before Janie got home. He'd nurse his hangover and send Ashley on his way, and maybe he'd even pretend that the reason he was so withdrawn and quiet was because his back was hurting him again. Slipped disc, broken heart. It was all the same. 

And one day he'd figure out how to tell Janie that he'd accidentally fallen in love with someone else.


End file.
